Chapter Four: Cold Turkey

Chapter Four: Cold Turkey

Veruca was woken at seven o’clock sharp by her maid.

“Miss Veruca?” said the maid timidly, standing by the door as though she was afraid a bomb would explode inside the room.

“Go away,” Veruca said, pulling her bed sheets over her head.

“Miss Veruca, I beg your pardon, but your father told me that you have to wake up, and now,” the maid said. “He would like to have a word with you in the dining room.”

“For goodness’ sake,” Veruca rolled out of her bed. She caught a glimpse of herself in her mirror. Her nightdress was rumpled, her hair a mess. She pushed the maid violently as she passed her. “Out of my way.”

It was still dark outside. February the third was dawning a cold and crisp day. The trees in the gardens were still bare, and there was a chilling mist floating through the grounds of the Salt mansion. The coldness seemed to have seeped indoors. Veruca shivered in her nightdress and bare feet, and she hurried towards the dining room as fast as possible.

Her father was sitting at the head of the table. He was already dressed in a smart suit. Her mother was up too, but was wearing a silk kimono and sipping coffee elegantly. Her hair was immaculate. Veruca felt scruffy and out of place, standing alone at the far end of the table. She cleared her throat, quite unsure of what to say. Her parents looked up.

“Veruca darling!” Mrs. Salt exclaimed, smiling scarily again. Veruca opened her mouth to say something, though she did not know what. But her father interrupted.

“Angina, please be quiet,” Mr. Salt said. “Veruca, sit down. Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Because I only just woke up!” Veruca snapped. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning – it’s not even a school day!”

Oh gosh, school. It started again tomorrow. Everyone would be desperate to know what had happened at the factory. She had spent weeks and weeks bragging about her ticket. But now, she just couldn’t face up to them.

“Daddy,” she said firmly, “I don’t want to go to school tomorrow. In fact, I don’t want to go to school again ever.”

“It is funny you should say that,” Mr. Salt said casually. “I called you down to say that you will be moving school.”

Veruca was stunned. “I beg your pardon?” she said after a minute.

“Don’t interrupt me,” Mr. Salt said. “And sit down, right now.”

Veruca sat. She was completely speechless.

“From now on, your life will change,” Mr. Salt continued. “First of all, you will move schools. You will no longer learn at St. Cecilia’s School for Girls. You are being transferred to Blakehead Park Secondary School.”

Veruca could not help but allow a gasp to escape her lips. Even she had heard of Blakehead Park. “But Daddy – that school’s been on the news! It’s full of criminals!”

Her father did not react to her words at all. “Today, you will be driven to your Aunt Katharine’s house. You will stay there for the next year.”

Veruca felt as though the bottom of her stomach had dropped away. “W-what? A whole year? But daddy – why?”

Aunt Katharine had distanced herself from her sister Angina. Angina had been welcomed into high society when she had married Henry Salt. Katharine Burne was very middle-class, and divorced with two sons, Martin and Ollie. Martin was a sulky boy in his late teens, and Ollie was two years old and hell-bent on destroying everything he encountered. Veruca hated her aunt and both her cousins, and she always had the impression that the feeling was mutual.

“But Daddy,” Veruca whined, “I don’t want to go and live with Aunt Katharine. Okay, I’ll go back to school. I didn’t really mean I’d stay out of school forever. Maybe a month or two.”

“Veruca,” Mr. Salt sounded tired. “You must go and pack one suitcase. You will be driven to Aunt Katharine’s just after lunch.”

Veruca could not believe her ears. “One suitcase for a whole year? Don’t be stupid. I need all my dresses, my toys, my books, television, videos, magazines...”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Veruca. All you’ll need is a few outfits, a book or two and maybe your favourite doll.”

“But Daddy...”

“Henry, I think you are being a little harsh,” mumbled Mrs. Salt, rolling her eyes at her husband.

“Angina, this is the only way to make our daughter a good person,” Mr. Salt said, glaring at his wife. “She has been spoilt and indulged her whole life. It is time for a change.”

Mrs. Salt’s mouth fell open, and her eyes flashed. “Are you suggesting I have spoiled my daughter?”

“No,” Mr. Salt said. “I was capable of spoiling her myself. But you, Angina, have neglected Veruca. We both share the blame.”

Mrs. Salt was stunned into silence for a second, and then she began to shriek at her husband.

“How dare you even suggest that I have neglected my daughter!”

“I am not spoilt!” Veruca screamed over her mother’s shrieks.

Mr. Salt stood up. “I am not listening any more. You are both ridiculous.”

And he walked out, leaving them in the dining room. And, for the first time, Veruca and Angina Salt realised they had nothing to say to each other.